


easy, peasy, queasy.

by vantas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 15:51:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13321470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vantas/pseuds/vantas
Summary: Technically speaking, Hunk doesn't actuallyknowKeith. (Or: In which Lance's account of Keith's personality was greatly exaggerated, and becoming close to the Red Paladin is something of a learning experience.)





	easy, peasy, queasy.

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for [kotoriqueen](http://kotoriqueen.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, as part of the [Heith Secret Santa](https://heith-secret-santa.tumblr.com/) exchange! Also late (again) because my life is, apparently, a sitcom and I am the misplaced anime girl running late with toast. 
> 
> Nonetheless, Happy (Belated) Holidays! May 2018 be a better year for all of us.

* * *

**i.**

* * *

Technically speaking, he doesn't actually know Keith.

He knows about him, _sure_ , but most of his knowledge is derived from listening to Lance complain about him for hours at an end. While he loves his best friend (truly, honestly) — Lance isn't known for being the most accurate narrator. If anything, Hunk automatically classifies ninety percent of what he says as a tall tale, filing away the remaining ten percent as something to be taken into consideration. It's an awful thing, but it's payback for the years he spent listening to him rant about the most recent bout of drama in his life, nodding and humming at the appropriate moments while his mind was focused on deciphering the mess that was Mr. Harris's latest lesson.

Lance tells him that Keith is an upstarter. A show-off. Someone who is driven to succeed at the expense of everyone else around him, maliciously rubbing his victories in the faces of his classmates. Hunk has (unsurprisingly) never met the guy, already way past the point where he can take general electives with the cadets training to become pilots, so it doesn't occur to him to be overly skeptical of Lance's story. Maybe it's a little exaggerated, but he has no reason to doubt that this Keith is anything but a first class _jerk_.  Not with the commotion he causes shortly before his expulsion, anyway.

Sure enough, Keith is a little bit of a jerk when he first meets him. He basically tells Lance to throw himself overboard while getting chased by a pack of severely unhappy Garrison instructors. But — he's not the fire breathing dragon his best friend had depicted. He doesn't seem like he's out to get anyone, except perhaps the aliens that stole his friend away from him.

If anything, he seems quiet and woefully lovely.

(His older brother had one told him he was going to get in trouble for being nosy one of these days.

At the age of 13, Hunk had just shrugged at him, holding his hands up as if to say:

_What can you do?_

He prefers to call it being _well aware of his environment_ , anyway.)

He finds Keith holed up in the training deck, as has become the habit since they began their new lives in the Castle of Lions. He doesn't know if this is how Keith usually spent his time on Earth, pushing his body way past its limits, driven by a need to improve himself. He doesn't even know if Keith's only doing this to take his mind off the fact they're currently stuck in space, unable to return home until they eradicate the Galra Empire. But he _does_ know, judging by the heaving of Keith's chest and the way the gladiator knocks him on his ass for what seems to be the nth time, that he seriously needs to take a break.

Stepping into the training deck unannounced is something of a mistake, though.

Keith's whirling around to point his sword at him, causing Hunk to hold his arms up in surrender, palms facing his teammate.

" _Whoa_ there, buddy!" he yelps, inching away from the sharp, pointy weapon aimed at his face. "It's just me! It's just me! You can put the sword down now!"

Keith blinks as if surprised to see him, lowering the sword to his side. "Hunk?" he asks, a miasma of sweat around him. It's actually kind of gross. "What are you doing?"

"Haha, yep. That's me," he laughs nervously, warily eying Keith's bayard in case he decides to pull it back up. "Just wanted to, you know, check up on you? See if you wanted to take a break, or— literally anything else."

Keith furrows his eyebrows, glancing back at the collapsed gladiator a couple yards away from the two of them. "I'm busy," he says.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, surprised by the fact he's still talking instead of making a hasty escape. "'Cause I think I figured out how to make pie in the kitchen, and I'd really like someone to help me taste test it."

He could, theoretically, ask literally anybody else on the castle to help him with this. Lance is always down for trying out new treats, desperate to escape the bland taste of _food goo_. Pidge is similarly enthusiastic, and much more willing to provide constructive criticism as opposed to simply singing his praises. Heck — he's pretty sure he could even wrangle Shiro and the princess into helping him out in the kitchen, if he sells it well enough. Keith is totally aware of this fact, and he doesn't hesitate to point it out. "Wouldn't someone else be better for this?"

"Uh, no. Lance has the _palate_ of a neanderthal," he says, and it's a hundred percent true. Best friend benefits are awesome. "And Pidge hates peanuts, which is bad because the filling tasted kinda of peanut-y? So, it totally has to be you."

It's a small victory when Keith's lip quirks up just the slightest bit, something akin to an amused huff coming out of his as Hunk proceeds to completely and utterly drag Lance. Again, best friend benefits are the greatest and the universe will have to rip them out of Hunk's cold, dead hands. Keith takes a moment to shift his weight from one foot to another, almost as if ranking the pros and cons, before he nods. "Alright," he says, "I can take a break."

Hunk makes no move to hide the way he instantly brightens, _beaming_ at him. "Sweet! Come on, then. Let's get going before Coran finds out what we're making."

* * *

**ii.**

* * *

One week slowly becomes four weeks. Four weeks suddenly ( _alarmingly_ ) become several months. If someone had told Hunk he would spend half a year stuck in space, fighting a war mankind didn't even know about, he would suggested they lay off the crazy juice. Maybe suggest they take a step back, while they're at it. Get some fresh air. Eat some delicious food. _It'll do you some good_ , he would have told them.

He doesn't have the luxury of telling anyone that, anymore.

It's not until they're settled in Olkarion that he manages to get a moment alone with Keith. The last couple of days ( _quintants_ — they're shorter, or something) have all blurred together into a dizzying whirlwind of too much action and too little sleep. His bunions are getting bunions. He keeps taking accidental micro-naps every time he does so much as blink. When he moves his neck, it feels like someone put a jackhammer to the muscles that rest against his spine.

This is all without acknowledging the fact he still feels kind of super duper bad over the way Allura has been treating his friend.

Keith's leaning over the balustrade on a balcony when he finds him. Olkarion's capital city is laid out before them, nothing short of a scientific marvel. Hunk's fingers twitch as the city shifts and evolves before them, wishing to sit down and learn the inner workings of the technology behind it. If given the chance, he's pretty sure he and Pidge could stay here for _ages_ — but now is neither the time nor the place. The line of Keith's shoulders is taut like a cambelt, and it only gets worse when Hunk is sufficiently close enough to join him by the balustrade.

"Sooo..." he drawls, sneaking a glance at Keith's expression. He finds that his eyes are narrowed, lips pressed into a harsh line. "Guess we should cut down on the Earth slang while talking to Coran, huh?"

Keith doesn't bother to look at him. Doesn't even bother to incline his head or twitch a muscle in any way that indicates he heard him. Hunk wonders if this is the point where he should mosey the other way or repeat himself, except Keith takes the decision out of his hands. "Yeah," he agrees half-heartedly, after what feels like a decade. "I guess."

It's the opposite of an encouraging response. It's like, the most discouraging thing he's heard all day — and he had to sit through Slav being _Slav_ for a good three hours. Hunk chuckles awkwardly, his fingers itching for something to tinker with.  Shamefully, he contemplates the pros and cons of fetching Shiro because he feels so, so overwhelmingly unequipped for this. Not that it stops him from pressing onward, anyway.  Sometimes, he surprises even himself. 

"You know, uh, Allura," he begins, not missing the way Keith flinches at the mention of the princess's name. It almost makes him wince, too, except there's no _almost_. He's totally wincing, scrambling for the rest of his sentence like a fool. "Allura isn't going to stay mad at you forever," he hastily says, nearly biting his tongue in the process. "She just needs some time."

Keith's shoulders are hunched all the way up, gloved fingers gripping the edge of the balustrade in a way that makes him sure his knuckles must be bone white by now. " _I don't care_ ," Keith grits out, despite the fact that he obviously does care. A lot. Because that's just the way Keith is; seemingly aloof and collected, up until someone threatens the wellbeing of those he has come to accept in his little sphere. "Allura can stay mad at me for as long as she wants. It's her right, after what the galra did to her."

"Well... yeah," Hunk says, "But that doesn't mean she _should_. You're not responsible for what Zarkon did, man."

He hears Keith take a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut for all of two seconds before he turns towards him, eyebrows furrowed. "Look," he tells him, tone sharp. "I know you mean well, but just drop it. I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, tentatively. "'Cause they say talking always—"

"No, Hunk," Keith says, pushing away from the balustrade. "I just want to be alone right now."

By the time Hunk thinks of something meaningful to say, the Red Paladin is long gone.

* * *

**iii.**

* * *

The scariest thing about space, he thinks, it's how _big_ it is. Some people say it's infinite; sprawling on and on and _on_ with no end in sight. The chances of finding one (1) specific person without any means of communication or even a hint of their location is astronomically small, pun fully intended.

But even with that knowledge, it's not like he ever expected to lose one of his teammates to space.

No one did.

Keith crashes and burns like the sort of car accident his pappy used to talk about with a pinched expression. Vehicles flattened much like soda cans, their components thoroughly wrecked with no future in sight except to serve as scrap metal. It was a horrifying sight to see when he visited the junkyard, and even more horrifying when he began to think about how it all went down. Watching Keith battle through his grief (literally and metaphorically) feels a little bit like that. A little bit like the unpleasant churning of an upset stomach, imagination running at terminal velocity while it draws him to dark, terrible places.

The only difference here is that he sees the crash in its full glory, abruptly shoved into the front seat without his consent.

It doesn't get better when they find Shiro. The sharp, broken edges don't go back into their rightful places, unwilling to be smoothed over. The sparks don't die. The smoke and fire doesn't lessen. If anything, the carnage is simply pushed out of their view where they aren't forced to bear witnesses to it. If anything, Keith forcibly removes himself from the picture, his relief palpable when he no longer has to play the role of leader.

( _"This is not the way I wanted this to happen," Keith says, a slight tremble to his voice. "But if there's a bright side to any of this, it's that my absence allowed Shiro to reestablish his bond with the Black Lion. He can finally be the leader I was unable to be. I'm not meant to pilot the Black Lion."_

 _From the corner of his eyes, Hunk sees the way Allura's stance shifts. The anger giving way to surprise. The surprise giving way to shock. The shock giving way to_ guilt _. "Is that why you've been pulling away from us?"_

_Keith's eyes are firmly planted on the floor. If he has made visual contact with them throughout this whole confrontation, it has been minimal and fleeting. "Yeah," he says, quietly. "I suppose that's part of it."_

_"Part of it?" Hunk finds himself asking, arms crossed. "What's the other part?"_ )

It's not until way later, when months pass and there's nothing but radio silence from their friend, that it feels like an opportunity lost.

* * *

**iv.**

* * *

The battle at Naxzela leaves them all feeling raw and untethered.

None of them say it outright, really, but it's apparent in the way they all carry themselves. The adrenaline drains from their bodies, their exhaustion catching up to them once they're out of their lions and within the castle ship. It's strange to know they owe their life to someone they were hunting down only months ago. It's even stranger to know that they may have found a potential ally in him.

Hunk's practically dragging his feet through the castle hallways, members of the coalition bustling around with the sheer determination that so strongly characterizes them. He can't even wrap his mind around being so lively at the moment. Just the thought of it makes every ache and bruise he's accumulated since they put their plan into motion flare painfully, as if to remind him of their existence. He's got half a mind to find a nice little corner to slowly melt into when he catches a sight of something that makes him stop in his tracks.

Keith.

He's sitting on the floor, legs pulled up to his chest while his head rests between his knees. His Blade of Marmora suit leaves very little visible flesh, but what Hunk _can_ see seems to have adopted a ghostly, sickly pallor. Black hair sticks his neck with sweat, which was never an uncommon sight while Keith lived within the castle's walls, but what _is_ uncommon is the complete and utter stillness of his body. Matt, Hunk realizes, is crouched down beside him. His mouth is moving, brows furrowed as he talks to Keith about something. Hunk has no way of knowing what, but the grim set of the older Holt's face makes him believe it must be something serious.

Then again, it's not as if today is a day for shooting the breeze.

He thinks about carrying on and leaving them to their conversation, but Matt is suddenly making eye contact with him. His mouth is left hanging open, midway through a sentence — but his expression is quickly settling into a friendly smile.

"Hunk, my man!" Matt yells, loudly enough for Hunk to hear over the racket being produced by everyone around them. "Come here!"

At the same time, Keith's head snaps up. There's something wild in his expression, something absolutely hecking _frightened_ — and then it's gone just as quickly as it came, replaced by a mask of neutrality. The change is so rapid, so extreme, that Hunk almost thinks he's imagining it.

(Except, no.

The rest of Keith's body language speaks of a different story.)

Left without much of a choice, he makes his way over to his two allies. Matt high fives him once he's reached them, catching up with him while Keith does his best impression of a piece of furniture. They carry on this way for a couple of minutes, sharing information and anecdotes, up until Matt stretches his arms in the most exaggerated manner imaginable. A couple of bones audibly pop, giving Hunk the shivers. "I am _beat_ ," he says, voice muffled by a yawn. "I'm gonna try and catch some Z's before Captain Olia hunts me down for a report. See you later."

And just like that, Matt is gone.

There is no longer any buffer between him and Keith.

They sit there in silence for a moment, Keith's gaze set on the opposite end of the room. Up close, he looks even worse than Hunk initially suspected. There are dark bruises around his eyes, his lips pale and chapped while soot clings to his skin.

Lamely, irrationally, Hunk hears himself say: "That was a rough battle, huh?"

Keith snorts. It's a small sound, weak and laced with the bare-bones of humor — but it's _there_.

It feels a little like a victory. 

"Yeah," Keith replies, so very quietly. "But we won. _Voltron_ won. You did a good job."

Hunk does not miss the distinction. The sudden disconnect. The way Keith excludes himself from Voltron, as if he is no longer considered a part of the team. His mood takes an even further dip, his lips tugging down into a frown. "Hey," he responds, shuffling closer to cover the space where Matt used to be. "You helped, too. We couldn't have done it without you."

For a moment, Keith shuts his eyes. His breathing is steady, the rise and fall of his shoulders indicative of that much. When he looks up at him, dark bruises nearly swallowing up dark purple eyes, there's a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Hunk."

He's not sure what's being thanked for, but he rolls with it.

"Anytime, buddy."

* * *

**v.**

* * *

 

Here's a list of things Hunk knows about Keith:

  1. He's dedicated.
  2. He's hardworking.
  3. He's loyal beyond belief.
  4. He is _intense_ when it comes to protecting the people he cares about.
  5. And he will never, not even once, consider putting his own needs above those of the universe.



Maybe, if Hunk had bothered to try and get to know the oh-so-elusive _Keith_ back when they were both students at the Garrison, their lives would have taken a drastically different turn.  Maybe Keith wouldn't have been expelled.  Maybe he could have become friends with him along with Lance and Pidge.  Maybe, Keith wouldn't have had to spend a whole year alone in the desert, his only source of stability lost in space.

But Hunk never bothered to get to know him before they were all thrust into a ten thousand year old war.

He simply accepted Lance's words for truth, and moved on with his life. 

It's okay, though.

When Keith falls asleep next to him, his body slowly careening towards the left until his head rests on Hunk's shoulder, he knows things _will_ be okay.  Perhaps not today.  Perhaps not for yet another year, but they will be.

And that makes everything worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on: [tumblr](http://carcinology.tumblr.com/) • [twitter](https://twitter.com/beheads).


End file.
